The Ted Zone
by Kristen Bealer
Summary: We first met Ted in "The New Kid," but then he disappeared almost entirely from the show. Two seasons later, he got one line in a single episode that confirmed he was still attending Lawndale High. What the hell was he doing during all that time? Let's find out.
1. GifTed

**GifTed**

by Kristen Bealer

o O o

Ted was struggling to account for Mr. O'Neill's bizarre interpretation of _Great Expectations_. _Is he using irony or is this an experiment in reverse psychology?_ He was just starting speculate that perhaps the teacher was actually describing a different work with the same title when Ms. Li walked into the classroom and interrupted the lecture.

"Attention, young people! I have an exciting announcement. Grove Hills, the school for gifted and outstanding students, has issued invitations to several of our students to visit its campus. And among those so honored is Mr. DeWitt-Clinton!"

"Wow!" Ted exclaimed. The other students were silent. _They must be too overcome by admiration, and perhaps even envy, to speak._

As Ms. Li left the room, Ted reflected on the extraordinary good luck of being able to experience not just one, but two schools in such a short time. He wondered if he should visit other schools as well.

_Maybe that place just outside of town, the Carter County Center? There are sure to be some interesting people there! I read about the students in the newspaper all the time. And I've heard it's very well-funded. It has a state-of-the-art security almost as thorough as the one at Lawndale High. But would my parents let me transfer to a juvenile detention facility?_

Ted turned his thoughts back to Grove Hills as Mr. O'Neill continued his enigmatic lecture. _It sounds like it could be an interesting school. I'll have to do some research and find out everything I can! Does it offer a challenging curriculum of advanced classes? Will I have a wide variety of extracurricular activities to choose from? And, most importantly, are any of the students visually impaired?_

Ted had become popular almost immediately upon arriving at Lawndale High, thanks to his skill with virtual reality games, but within days he'd abruptly and inexplicably fallen into total obscurity. Barely anyone at school paid him any attention anymore, not even his fellow freshmen.

He couldn't even convince a senior to give him either a "swirlie" or a "wedgie," each of which appeared to be some kind of time-honored hazing ritual. He'd overheard some students mention them once in passing and he was eager to learn more about them-perhaps if he was lucky, even experience them firsthand.

When he first noticed his shift into anonymity, he'd hypothesized that he had turned invisible. Unfortunately, that disastrous experiment at the Seven Corners intersection during rush hour had ruled out that theory. Just to be safe, he'd repeated the experiment with similar results at the counter at Pizza King as well as the Cranberry Commons food court.

Now he was certain, and it was just as well-his parents had soon after expressed very firm opinions on the issue of public nudity.

_I haven't been able to account for the strange phenomenon yet, although research so far seems to indicate that it's most prominent here at Lawndale High School. This visit to Grove Hills might be my chance to find out if this was a random fluke or if other schools develop peculiar blind spots for students, as well!_

o O o

"Welcome to Grove Hills!" A thin girl with honey-colored hair greeted Ted after he arrived. "My name is Marina."

"Hello, Marina!" Ted replied, eagerly shaking her hand and looking around the room. "I'm really glad I could come!"

It had been harder than Ted expected to convince his parents to let him visit Grove Hills, because they kept talking about corruption by other students, the inevitable decay of society, and the utterly depraved lyrics of "Yellow Submarine." In the end they'd given in with the condition that he not, under any circumstances, accept gum from anyone.

Marina moved on to talk to other people and Ted began his observation in earnest. _Marina could see me_, he noted. _So if Grove Hills is vulnerable to the same blind spots as Lawndale High, then perhaps they don't affect the recruiters._

He looked around at the other students, watching for any unusual patterns or strange behavior. He also took in the artwork (reproductions), the potted plants (artificial), and the refreshment table loaded with punch and appetizers (gum-free).

At last he saw a grim-faced blond boy give a half-hearted wave to another student, who immediately turned her back and faced the opposite direction. The blond boy sighed and looked down at the floor.

_He's being completely ignored by his fellow students! Perfect! I must study him more closely._

When the blond boy looked up again, Ted's face was inches from his own. "Gah!" he cried.

"Oh, good!" Ted smiled with relief. "So you can see me?"

"Of course I can see you!" the surprised boy hissed, taking a step back. "What's _wrong_ with you?"

"I don't know, but I'm hoping you can help me find out."

The boy took another step back and eyed Ted with no small amount of fear. "Look, I've heard this kind of thing happens to some of the kids who go here. Can you try to keep it together while I go get the school shrink?"

Ted shook his head and laughed. "Oh, I'm not a student here. I'm one of the visitors. My name is Ted!" He abruptly stuck out his arm and the other boy leaped back with a strangled yell.

After a few moments of Ted failing to savagely attack him, the boy relaxed-slightly-and tentatively returned the handshake. "I'm David."

"It's a pleasure to meet you!" Ted tightened his grip and leaned forward, causing David to flinch. "I'm conducting a scientific experiment. Would you be willing to assist me?"

David wrenched his hand free and took several quick steps backward. "Look, uh, Ted," he stammered. "I'd like to but, um, I'm going to go...get some punch. Good luck with your whole being-totally-insane thing, okay?"

Ted watched the boy flee to the other side of the room. _Gosh, I wonder if his erratic behavior has anything to do with his fellow students' obliviousness. Since I'm not in any way abnormal, then it will be difficult to compare our two cases._ He looked around at all the other students. _Still, there's no reason I can't continue to gather data while I'm here._

As he began heading toward the nearest group of teens, he briefly wondered how his parents were getting along with the other adults. _I'm sure they'll be fine as long as they get off on the right foot with everyone else._

o O o

"I'm Leslie DeWitt, and this is my husband, Grant Clinton."

"Nice to meet you. My name's Andrew Landon. You might have heard of me-I invented the folding coffee cup."

"_Coffee?!_"

o O o

Ted saw the student who had had failed to see David earlier and headed straight for her. _First hypothesis: Grove Hills students have extremely poor vision._ He pulled a random book off a shelf as he passed it.

"Excuse me," he said, interrupting the girl in mid-sentence, "but could you please tell me what this word is?" He opened the book, held it a couple of feet from the girl's face, and pointed to a word on the page."

The girl gave him a look of utter bewilderment but then glanced at the book and said, "Ubiquitous."

"Very good!" He pulled the book back a short distance. "And this one?"

"Widdershins."

"Excellent!" A little further back. "How about this?"

"Diphthong." As Ted started to move the book yet again, she held up a hand to stop him. "You're one of the visiting students, right?"

He nodded. "It's been a very entertaining visit so far, in spite of the appalling shortage of gum."

"Uh huh. So how did you get invited if you can't even read any of these words?"

Ted giggled. "I see there's been a misunderstanding. I can read the words just fine!"

The girl waited, but no further clarification came. "Then why...?"

"Oh! This has just been a simple vision test." He closed the book. "You did surprisingly well. I assumed your eyesight would be quite inferior!"

"I beg your pardon!" The girl drew back, offended. "I have 20/20 vision!"

"Really?" Ted asked, disappointed. He leaned in to peer closely at her eyes. "No sporadic lapses or blind spots, then?"

"I can see perfectly," she replied, flinching away from his examination. "I'm particularly good at spotting idiots."

"That sounds like a fascinating ability!" He tilted his head curiously. "Although I suppose it wouldn't be very useful at a school for the gifted."

She glared at him before turning back to the other kids. "You'd be surprised."

o O o

"It's a relief to hear you're no longer with U.S. World, Michele," Grant said, still eying Andrew with mild disgust. "I'm sure you're happier refusing to support a system of exploitation and fraud, right?"

"Actually, I'm going back as soon as Evan is in daycare."

Leslie immediately turned her hateful glare from Andrew to Michele. "You're willing to abandon your own son to the care of total strangers?"

"Damn straight!" Andrew cut in. "That's exactly what I-"

"Shut up," Grant, Leslie, and Michele snapped in unison.

o O o

_Second hypothesis_, Ted speculated as he looked for someone else to analyze. _The girl who helped me with my earlier research implied that some Grove Hills students actually have a low mental capacity. This may account in some way for their inability to recognize their fellow students._

He watched as a red-haired boy with a sour look on his face snubbed David completely. _Time for my next test_.

"Hello," he said to the boy as he approached. "May I ask you a few questions?"

The boy looked witheringly at him and grumbled, "I think I've had enough conversation with wannabes tonight."

"Wannabes?" Ted asked. "Is that a kind of novelty snack food? I've heard of Ding Dongs and Ho Hos, but not Wannabes. Do they contain processed sugar or-"

"Get to the point!"

"I'd just like a few minutes of your time for an important scientific inquiry!"

"Fine. I've got nothing better to do, I guess."

"Thanks!" Ted cleared his throat and asked, slowly and distinctly, "What color is a banana?"

The boy narrowed his eyes. "What is this, a trick question?"

Ted smiled apologetically. "If that one is too hard, I-"

"Yellow."

"Right! Now, what do you get if you add two plus two?"

Again the boy looked suspicious, but cautiously answered, "Four."

"Well done! And what sound does a cat make?"

"This is ridiculous," the boy said, throwing his hands up in the air. "I'm not answering any more of these questions."

Ted gave him an understanding nod. "I see. These questions were obviously too challenging for you, which confirms my theory that-"

"Too _challenging_? I'll have you know my IQ is 165!"

"Really?" Ted asked, startled. He glanced over at David, still on the other side of the room, then back at the red-haired boy. "Do you think it's possible that your high IQ still doesn't make you smart enough to see-"

The boy exploded. "I _am_ smart! I'm not boring! I'm not miserable! And I do _not_ have my head up my butt!" Jamming closed fists against his eyes, the boy turned and ran out of the room with a high-pitched wail.

"'Head up my butt'?" Ted repeated, confused. "I had no idea that Grove Hills participated in such extreme and unorthodox yoga techniques!"

Curiosity overcame him and he began to lean forward, seeing how far he could bend himself. Then he stopped himself and sighed. _One experiment at a time. I need to come up with a new hypothesis before the evening is over and it's time to go home._

He closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate. _It's not eyesight. It's not mental capacity. Could it be some kind of paranormal phenomenon restricted only to teenagers, or perhaps even just teenagers in Lawndale?_

Ted opened his eyes. _Time to gather more data. And to see if the refreshment table has any of those Wannabes._

o O o

"Look, there comes a point when you have to let your children out of your sight!" Michele crossed her arms and glared back at Leslie and Grant. "Your son goes to school for six hours a day, just like our daughter."

"Only six?" Andrew snorted quietly. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

Leslie ignored him. "For your information, we homeschooled Ted until recently."

Andrew sputtered, "_Homeschooling?_ Oh, this just keeps getting better."

"What's wrong with that?" Grant demanded.

"Oh, nothing." Andrew smirked. "If you want to coddle your kid with an easy workload instead of letting him learn to deal with _real_ challenges and pressure."

Leslie scowled. "In other words, turn him into a mindless shill for capitalism with a soul that's completely black?"

Tensing at the word "black," Michele screeched, "And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

o O o

_Third hypothesis: some kind of supernatural interference is causing the blind spots._ Ted chose a girl at random and walked up to her. "Do you attend this school?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied politely.

"How is your vision?"

"Okay, I guess," she said slowly, looking at him with mild curiosity.

"And would you say your intellect is at least slightly above average?"

"I'd like to think so." Her expression was beginning to shift toward one of concern.

"Please look over there," he said, turning to point directly at David. "Do you see that young scholar by the fireplace?"

The girl sneered and rolled her eyes. "Scholar? I don't see anyone who meets _that_ description!"

"Fascinating! Finally, have you ever noticed any unexplained occurrences, perhaps along the line of space-time anomalies or even alien activity, either at this school or anywhere else in Lawndale?"

"Whoa," the girl said, staring at Ted. "Usually the nine percent of students who bug out wait until after they enroll before they join the Nutcase Brigade."

"Nutcase Brigade?" Ted asked, eyes wide. "Something tells me you're not referring to a novelty snack food, are you?"

o O o

Andrew snorted. "You can say all you want about capitalism, but it's been pretty good to us!" He jabbed a finger toward a nearby window. "You see that Jaguar out there? I _earned_ that through hard work and ingenuity!"

Grant snorted. "You mean you used your ill-gotten corporate gains to pollute the environment and display to the world that you worship at the altar of crass materialism!"

Andrew stared incredulously at him. "And I suppose you walked all the way here? Or did you float along on your own smug sense of self-righteousness?"

"We took the bus, of course," Leslie replied, shaking with indignation. "As it happens, we also use solar power and grow our own food!"

"What, you can't even afford to buy groceries? Exactly how poor are you, anyway? And, more importantly, how much of my taxes are supporting your ridiculous lifestyle?"

o O o

_I give up_, Ted thought sadly. _Not one of my hypotheses has been supported by research. All I've learned is that one student has 20/20 vision, another has a 165 IQ, and the last one is obsessed with nine percent of something._

He gasped in surprise. _But maybe that's it! Perhaps these numbers they've all mentioned-20, 165, and 9-all combine in some way to construct a formula that explains the mysterious circumstances I've been struggling to understand for so long. Perhaps, after all this time, I'm finally on the edge of a breakthrough that could completely revolutionize everything the world thinks it knows about the laws of physics and-hey! That guy has gum!_

As Ted raced toward the gum-bearing student on the other side of the room, he decided his research would just have to wait. _I hope my parents had a more productive evening than I did._

o O o

"Immoral corporate puppets!"

"Welfare-cheating hippies!"

o O o

"It's just as well you've decided not to go to Grove Hills," Leslie said across the bus aisle to Ted as they rode home. "If there's one thing we've learned tonight, it's that corruption and greed are lurking everywhere, no matter where you go."

Grant grimly added, "There's no escaping it these days. Some people might not see it, but we'll never turn a blind eye. Right, Ted?"

Ted nodded, glad that someone else understood what it was like to observe other people's selective vision. "I just wish I knew what caused it!"

Leslie snorted. "I blame today's shallow, materialistic culture. At least our family can resist the empty promises and artificial products society forces on everyone else." She peered more closely at her son. "Are you eating something?"

Ted immediately swallowed the gum he'd been hiding in the side of his cheek. "Oh, no. Just, er, reflecting on your words. So, did you meet any interesting people tonight?"

The distraction worked perfectly. "We did battle against the very personifications of evil," Leslie said.

"And tore their repulsive philosophy of corporate slavery to shreds!" Grant added. The two solemnly thrust their fists into the air in triumph, and a man sitting behind them quietly moved to another seat.

"Oh, that's a relief!" Ted smiled. "I was worried you wouldn't have any fun."


	2. The Ted Zon

**The Ted Zon**

by Kristen Bealer

o O o

"Hiiii!"

Ted had just walked into Lawndale High School one morning when a blond cheerleader almost immediately approached him. For the first time in weeks, one of his fellow students was addressing him directly. "Oh!" he said, surprised but pleased. "Hello."

"My name is Brittany," she said. "What's yours?"

"We met not too long ago, remember?" he said, slightly disappointed at her lack of recognition. "At the yearbook meeting. I-" Ted suddenly recalled that during the encounter, he had caused someone he suspected was her suitor a considerable amount of pain. _Reminding her of that incident might distress her so much she'll end this conversation. And it's the first real interaction I've had with another student in such a long time!_

Brittany tilted her head and peered more closely at Ted's face. "You do look kinda familiar," she said slowly. "Um...it started with a 'T,' I think...Terry, right?"

"That's as good a pseudonym as any," Ted cheerfully replied.

"A what?"

"It's not important," he assured her.

"Okay!" She frowned again, thinking, and added, "Oh, yeah. I wanted to ask you something. You don't do sports, right?"

Ted briefly considered telling her about his isometric exercises or his family's massive backgammon tournaments but decided that probably wasn't what she meant. "I suppose not. Is that a problem?"

"It's perfect!" she squeaked. She then took a deep breath and began speaking very quickly and very angrily about the relative importance of anniversaries versus Pigskin Channel marathons. Someone named "Kevvy" was heavily featured in this monologue and, from what Ted could understand between all of the shrieks and sobs, this person was not only shockingly self-absorbed but also brutish, unintelligent, and (although it was possible Ted misheard this one) in possession of an undersized rooster.

Her overall thesis appeared to be that she was sick and tired of athletes and wanted to spend time with someone who had as little in common as possible with the egotistical chicken farmer.

Ted considered her offer. "Well, we do grow crops at our house, but city ordinances prevent us from owning any kind of livestock. Does that sound acceptable?"

"Umm...do you like football or not?"

"I do not."

"Then it sounds perfect! So, what do people who don't do sports do at night?"

Backgammon flitted through his mind again, but he quickly dismissed the idea. There was a possibility Brittany might consider it too much like football. Thinking back to his only real-life experience with peer-focused recreation, he asked, "Do you enjoy virtual reality games?"

Brittany wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, I hate those things. One time I played one of those with Kevvy-that _jerk_!-and he started hitting on another girl while I was right there!"

"Oh, dear. I didn't realize that you weren't supposed to hit your opponents in those games!" He thought back to his many swordfights with Robert and his friends and wondered if that had anything to do with his loss of popularity. "Then how about eating pizza? I recently discovered something called processed cheese that I think you might enjoy."

She shook her head. "I eat pizza all the time. I want to try something _different_!"

"I see." Ted was about to ask her if she was interested in viola da gamba music when the bell rang, signaling that classes were going to start soon. "Why don't we meet here after school and decide?"

"Okay. See you later, uh...Jerry!" Brittany hurried off toward her first class.

Ted turned toward his own homeroom, lost in thought. _I need to come up with an acceptable alternative to sports-themed activities. Of all the possible activities that exist in any known culture, past or present, sports make up a small minority. Just on a statistical level, this should be a very simple task. And yet I don't have even the remotest idea of where to start._

o O o

He still hadn't thought of any good ideas by lunchtime, so he ate his eggplant parmesan and drank his tofu smoothie quickly and spent the rest of the lunch period in the library. After a fruitless search through the encyclopedia, the dictionary, the World Almanac, several issues of National Geographic, and an engrossing picture book about bears having a tea party, Ted finally turned to the phone book.

First he looked under "Entertainment." He noticed several listings for "Entertainment, Adult" but couldn't find anything for "Entertainment, Teenager." Then he noticed some of the photos in the advertisements on that page and decided that while the prospect seemed strangely tempting, somehow he sensed that Brittany would not be interested in that particular type of entertainment.

Next he looked under "Recreation." Most of the listings there seemed to be related to sports: pool halls, bowling alleys, and even an intriguing place called a "paintball jungle" that he hoped to visit one day. He sighed, disappointed. _I need an _alternative _to sports._

He looked back at the phone book. _Hmmm._ Figuring it was worth a try, he looked under "Alternative." There he found a listing for "Alternative Music Clubs" and noticed a small ad for a place called "The Zon."

_I enjoy music, and Brittany enjoys alternatives. This is perfect!_

o O o

"Hello, we're Mystik Spiral. But we might change our name."

Ted found himself bouncing slightly on his feet with anticipation as the bandleader introduced the band. According to the tattoo on his arm, the young man was a very high-ranking Maori. _Perhaps they'll be performing some traditional Maori chants. Mom and Dad will be so jealous!_

He looked around at the crowd that surrounded him, searching for any sign of Brittany. _If she doesn't come back from the bathroom soon, she's going to miss the indigenous folk music._

Ted was glad when Brittany had agreed to come to the Zon with him, but it had been a shock when she'd met him at the club's entrance with black hair instead of the blond hair she'd had earlier that day. _Do all teenage girls have variable hair color? Does it change based on one's mood, or is this the type of thing one alters based on time of day and the formality of the occasion?_

His attention was drawn back to the stage as the band started to play. "I'm glad you're happy watching my pain, burning crop circles on my soul's waves of grain. We had no love scene but you've cut to the chase! You're chopping off my nose to spite my face. Ow, my nose! Ow, my face! Ow, my nose! Ow, my face!"

_I can't say that their music seems typical of the Maori culture. Perhaps the chant's meaning got shifted a little in translation. Or at least, I hope it did._

Still, it was a pleasant surprise to find that hearing music in a public venue was very different from listening to it on the homemade phonograph. _For one thing, live music doesn't skip when the albums get worn out. For another, I'm encountering all kinds of new and unexpected aromas amongst the audience._

The song ended, and a lone voice in the crowd suddenly shouted "Burger! Get! Get burger!" into the silence.

Ted gasped in wonder. _What a masterful example of avant-garde songwriting! This is almost as exhilarating as the day I discovered John Cage!_

He was still contemplating the unexpected brilliance of the band when Brittany returned, looking worried but purposeful.

"Welcome back!" he greeted her. "You missed a fascinating song, but perhaps the band will play it again for us the next time we come here."

"'Next time'!" she cried. "I'm never coming back to this place again! The music is all angry, the bathrooms are all gross, and the people are all getting rashes!"

"Rashes?" Ted asked. "Oh! I see the confusion. Actually, that thing on the singer's arm is a traditional Maori tattoo. I could explain the cultural-"

"I don't care!" she interrupted. "I need to find somebody and give them a message because I have to hold up my end of the deal. And then I am _leaving_!"

As she walked away, Ted noticed that her hair was beginning to drip onto the floor. He almost stopped her to point it out, but then it occurred to him that maybe it was supposed to do that. After all, it wouldn't be the first time that night he'd foolishly mistaken deeply profound experimental performance art for poor quality.

o O o

The next morning at school, Ted noticed Brittany in the hall with her suitor who cultivated small poultry. He started to walk toward her, intending to ask her if she'd enjoyed her evening of non-sports activities.

As he approached, Brittany looked in his direction but didn't smile or greet him in any way. Instead, she cried "Eep!" and bolted in the other direction down the hallway, dragging the confused fowl rancher behind her.

Ted sighed. It seemed he had become invisible to her once again. _And her hair has changed color again, this time to gray. Could she be aging rapidly for some reason? Whatever the cause, I hope she's all right._

o O o

Two days passed before Ted saw Brittany again. He was craving some saturated fats and refined carbohydrates, so he went to Pizza King after school.

Shortly after entering the restaurant, he heard a familiar voice ask, "Brain fever?"

He looked over at a nearby booth and recognized Jodie Landon, who was on the yearbook staff with him. He also saw Brittany, who replied, "Yeah. Doesn't that sound serious?"

_Brittany has brain fever?_ Ted thought in alarm. _The terminology is a bit out-of-date, but that must mean she's suffering from some type of inflammation of the brain. Could this be related to her quickly-changing hair color? Or does it have something to do with that rash she mentioned at the Zon? She seems healthy, but who knows how serious her condition may be?_

"You get the scalpel," suggested a young man sitting with the girls. "We can use my dad's barn as an operating room."

_Oh, dear!_ Ted was frozen in shock, horrified by the idea of performing such a delicate operation as brain surgery in someone's barn.

"Your dad doesn't have a barn," Brittany pointed out.

Relief washed over Ted. He turned to leave, his appetite now gone. As he left, he heard a voice he recognized as the rooster breeder tell the other boy, "We could use your basement."

Ted stopped, one hand on the door. _This is terrible! I can't let this happen!_ He thought about his options, and decided that the best course of action would be to alert the proper authorities.

o O o

"So let me get this straight," said the person on the other end of the line. "Some kid has a fever-"

"-_brain_ fever-" Ted corrected.

"-uh huh. And three other kids are planning to perform surgery on her in a basement?"

"Well, they were going to use a barn, but there wasn't one available."

There was a long pause. "Very funny, sir."

"I'm being quite serious!" Ted insisted. "I'm certain none of them has advanced medical training of any kind. In fact, I'm pretty sure one of them breeds chickens for a living!"

The other person let out a very annoyed sigh. "Sir, I don't know what you're trying to pull here, but unless you have an emergency related to animal control, then I'm going to disconnect this call."

"But I've tried all the other emergency numbers: police, fire department, poison control, and even the road conditions hotline. No one else would help and, in fact, most of them seemed to think I was playing some sort of practical joke. The Department of Public Works was particularly rude about it!" He pleaded, "Something must be done to save this poor girl's brain from amateur surgery!"

"Unless the surgery is going to be performed by a rabid chipmunk, you'll have to call someone else." There was a click as the line disconnected.

He hung up the school pay phone and put away the phone book. _These things haven't been nearly as useful as I thought they might be,_ he thought. _It seems I must take matters into my own hands._

o O o

Ted spent the rest of the afternoon searching for Brittany, Jodie, the boy with the nonexistent barn, or the poultry expert. He checked to see if there were any chicken farms in the area, but came up empty. Just as he was about to give up and look into sending flowers and a sympathy card to Brittany's parents, he saw the rooster cultivator himself getting out of a Jeep outside Lackluster Video.

"Excuse me!" he cried, hoping desperately that he would be visible to the other boy. "I have to stop you from making a terrible mistake!"

The breeder of small fowl looked at him in surprise, but then shook his head with a grin. "Naw," he replied, holding up a few videos. "I remembered to rewind them this time!"

"I mean the surgery you want to perform," Ted explained as he walked up to him. "I overheard what you and your friends are intending to do, and I must warn you that it is absolutely unconscionable!"

"Hey, thanks!" the other boy said obliviously. "I helped come up with the idea!"

"I don't think you understand," Ted insisted. "I'm referring to your planned brain surgery!"

"Nah, we're not going to do brain surgery," Kevin assured him.

"Oh, what a relief!"

"We're just going to cut open her brain and take all the fever out."

"What?!" Ted cried. "But that's exactly-I mean-" He stopped and took a few calming breaths. "I have no doubt you and your friends have good intentions, but without any education, experience, or qualifications, this is a plan fraught with peril. You'd be taking an innocent girl's life in your hands!"

The poultry rancher stared at Ted with an expression that, if Ted didn't know better, would suggest that he didn't understand what he'd just been told. Then he grinned again. "Yeah, I've got really good hands. My dad says my throwing arm is awesome, too!"

Ted looked the boy in the eyes. "Please promise me you'll do the right thing."

The other boy frowned in confusion at first, but then looked down at the movies that were still in his hand. His eyes lit up with sudden understanding and he nodded eagerly. "Oh, right." He tossed the videos into the nearby return slot. "No problem!"

With a relieved sigh, Ted said, "I'm glad to hear it. Now you'd better go find your friends and tell them what I said."

"Sure," the boy replied. "I bet they'll all be in Mack Daddy's basement by now!"

Ted gasped at the thought that the surgery might be taking place at that very moment. "Go, then!" he cried, and the other boy climbed back into the Jeep and sped away. Ted called after him, "Get to that basement quickly! The fate of a girl with inflamed cerebral tissue rests on your shoulders, brave chicken farmer!"

Ted wasn't sure why all those passersby were looking at him so strangely, but he assured them that the brain surgery wasn't going to happen after all. They seemed even more confused by this, and a few backed away from him when he tried to explain, so he gave up and went home.

o O o

After several days of worrying, Ted spotted Brittany in the hallway again. Her hair had returned to its former blond color, which he hoped was a sign that she was recovering from her illness.

"Brittany!" he called out, hurrying over to greet her.

"Shhhh!" she hissed, glancing around the hallway as if looking for someone. "We don't know each other, okay?"

Ted was confused. "But we _do_ know-oh! Is this a side effect of your recent illness? Perhaps your memory has been damaged in some way." He smiled. "You see, last week you and I went to a club known as 'The Zon,' and..."

"I _know_!" Brittany squeaked angrily. "I was there! But it was just one night and it didn't mean anything to me and I _love_ Kevvy even if he's sometimes a big jerk and from now on as far as I'm concerned there's no such person as Terry or Jerry or whoever you are!"

"Well, that's technically true," Ted admitted. "But if you'll just-"

Brittany shook her head so hard her ponytails whipped the sides of her face. "Nuh-uh. I don't want to see you ever again!"

As she stormed off, Ted shrugged. "So that's back to normal, anyway."


End file.
